


Fumbling, Feeling, Falling

by tiberiusirius



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration, F/M, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Half-Sibling Incest, Hand Jobs, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Starkcest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiberiusirius/pseuds/tiberiusirius
Summary: No one will give her a truthful sex talk so Arya obliges Jon to educate her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	Fumbling, Feeling, Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by a thread I came across where people posted the stupid misconceptions they had concerning sex because they were never given "the talk" or vastly misinterpreted things they were told about the dirty deed.

Micah was getting better at stick fighting but he was still no match for Arya.

He was backpedaling now, on the defense as her branch rained down on him mercilessly. He was only now just raising his stick up in time to block hers and prevent creation of new bruises he would have to explain away later.

He couldn’t help that as she continued her assault his eyes clenched shut sure she would breach his guard and strike him in the face—which is why he found himself tripping over his own feet and landing on his rump, curling up there to wait for a harsh thump that never came.

Squinting through one eye he looked up to find Arya Stark smirking at him in her usual way, her stick slowly descending from where she held it over her head.

“You can’t close your eyes Micah.” She scolded him. “How are you supposed to know where my blow will land next if you do?” She asked rhetorically.

Seeing her weapon lowered he let himself relax, splaying limbs out to either side in a show of exhaustion and relief, finally letting himself breath. “Seven Hells I know Arya, I just can’t. You’re too bloody fast.” He told her, eyes turned toward the sky resigned.

He didn’t have to look at her to know she was frowning, he could hear it in her voice. “Well then you need to be fast too.” She insisted. “You’ll get better you just have to try. C’mon get up.”

He groaned but did as was told, coming to sit up and leaning on his left hand to assist before he felt it—red hot pain.

His eyes widened in realization and he looked down dreading what he knew he would find. Suddenly his whole right leg was burning, dragon ants swarming from the nest he’d landed on and up the left leg of his pants.

Arya had to move fast to avoid the butcher’s boy as he flung himself to his feet near panic, eyes wide and hopping around as he smacked himself in the calf and thigh desperately trying to stop the assault.

“Arya help! They’re in my pants.” He looked to her desperately.

“What do I do?” She’d been standing there mouth agape, watching the situation in shock but suddenly found herself taking action. “Quick Micah, take them off!” She said rushing towards him.

He didn’t think twice. He toed off his boots in record time, Arya gracefully just managing to dodge them as they were flung wide and he unlaced his breeches, her there to assist in upending the hem of his shirt over his head.

He was wrestling himself out of his small clothes as she used his discarded shirt to bat the insects off of his leg. It wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped so once he’d leapt out of his breeches she fell to her knees and began swatting the bugs away with her hands.

Micah froze instantly. Even through all the pain he realized the precariousness of the situation, the youngest Stark girl kneeling in front of his unclothed person. She of course was completely ignorant, at least for the moment.

“Is it working?” she asked him as he froze, her hands continuing to brush away dragon ants that were still visible, unconcerned or unaware of her proximity to his bared groin.

He couldn’t speak, didn’t want to draw her attention to their predicament as he prayed to both the Old Gods and New that she somehow wouldn’t notice he was naked, or at the very least turn her back and save him some grief.

It was too much to hope for, and it was also apparently too much to hope that the sight of his friend kneeling before him wouldn’t have blood rushing to all the wrong places.

“Are they gone, then?” She asked finally. Seeing no more pests and noticing he wasn’t moving she looked up to find him looking even more flummoxed and helpless than he had while flailing around, now appearing as if he was trying to hold something back painfully, and failing.

Her queer questioning look suddenly transformed to one of surprised shock as something soft and yet somehow still hard hit her under her chin and she teetered backwards until she caught herself with her hands, now on her back while he practically stood over her.

It was only then that her jaw finally fell open. Staring up past a large set of bollocks and a thoroughly engorged cock thick with bushy hair, she glimpsed the mortified face of the butcher’s boy, though only for a moment before her eyes came back to rest on his prick, her head tilting slightly as she tried to take all of it in, curious but stunned.

For his part Micah didn’t know what to do. Too afraid to move less he find himself even closer to having his head on the block he stayed stalk still, eyes shut tightly hoping to just disappear. He’d had unfortunately timed erections before but this was life-scarringly humiliating. Luckily it couldn’t get any more embarrassing—or so he thought.

“Gods! look at it!” She couldn’t help but stare at the thing, and after a moment asked, “Does it go back in like the hounds in the kennels?” genuinely intrigued.

Micah sputtered and jerked himself around, finally having the wherewithal to cover himself up and feeling his face practically blistering from mortification.

“What?” She asked scrambling to her feet, trying to peek over his shoulder now to catch another glance. “Does it not? It’s not red like Ghost or Grey Winds…or wet looking.” She added as an after thought while juking left and right and attempting to get in front of him, it wasn’t as easy as when they were play fighting.

Faced with her mortifying questions, the Dragon ants seemed the preferable alternative. Micah scanned the ground and spotted his breeches and made a dash for them. Scooping them up he whirled them around a bit hoping that was enough to rid them of the remaining insects before he quickly donned them amidst protests from Arya.

“Wait Micah.” She licked her lips trying to find a reason for him to remain unclothed so she could satisfy her interest. When she couldn’t find one she resorted back to the truth. “I just want another look.” She pleaded, hand on his arm.

He looked over his shoulder towards her, seriously contemplating her words but shook himself out of it realizing the end he would meet if he attempted any of the things running through his head. Whipping his head back around he shook his head vigorously.

“N-No Arya!” He exclaimed, rushing now for his shirt. “They’d have my hide!” He threw the fabric over his head wrestling it around as he spoke, trying to find the neck opening.

“No one has to know.” She whined seeing the opportunity ripped from her grasp. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He shook his head vehemently, “If they found us they’d think I’d ruined you. Won’t matter that you just wanted to look.”

He saw Arya’s mouth open to offer more protestation and decided it was best he didn’t stay to hear them. With the sound of her shouting at him to come back and that they weren’t done, he ran back towards Winterfell, hands covering his uncomfortable situation and never looking back once.

Arya could only watch him leave, seeing her chance at finally understanding what it was about a cock that permitted men to do whatever it was they wanted, and why her lack of one meant a life of confinement, slip from between her fingers.

Feeling bitter at having come so close to comprehension, though she wasn’t entirely sure of what, she made her way back towards Winterfell brooding over her lack of luck.

She had no wish to cross paths with anyone, only make her way to the kitchens and steal a few lemoncakes for herself, and hopefully venison for Nymeria.

Though hounded by the howling of the cook, she thought she was going to be effortlessly successful when she skidded round and knocked right into Jon, scattering the stolen goods out of her arms.

Jon only grunted out a small “uhff,” arms instinctively coming around her to steady them both after the collision and instantly recognizing the small frame pressed against his own. Chuckling slightly, happy to have come upon her as intended, he held her at arms length for a moment until her glare turned to the ground and she bent to begin to collect her things.

He left her to gather it knowing it would be all the amount of time he had to question where she was going before she ran off. The last time she’d stolen food for herself and Nymeria, which was obviously what she was up to considering the raw venison, the whole castle had been up in arms thinking she’d been stolen by Wildlings.

Really her mother’d had the bow she’d knicked from the training yard removed from among her belongings and smashed in front of her. As a result she’d taken her things and set up a small but admirable camp for herself into the Godswood knowing it was the one place Catelyn was uncomfortable going. She’d only been one and ten then, and years later he still wouldn’t put it past her.

“I saw Micah return to Wintertown not long ago.” He began passively, watching her carefully all the while. “Looked like he’d been chased by a pack of Wildlings.” He chuckled.

Arya glared up at him from where she was as she dusted off the cakes she’d dropped. “So?” She growled resentfully.

Jon rolled his eyes, giving in and bending down to retrieve the venison she dropped. “So I was worried when you weren’t with him.” He explained, calmly helping her gather up her belongings. “He told me you were in the Godswood but Ghost and I had just come from there.” He paused to gauge her reaction and when she looked to the ground angrily he looked at her concerned. “Did something happe—?”

“—No.” Arya replied too quickly.

Both of Jon’s eyebrows shot upward and he gave Arya a skeptical look.

She scowled grumpily cursing herself and the way he could read her. “Ok, but it wasn’t anything bad.” She tried.

Jon’s brow furrowed in concern thinking it must’ve been just that. “I didn’t think it was until just now.”

Arya huffed and tried storming past him but he stepped in front of her and crouched down cupping her jaw and neck to make sure she met his eyes. “I’ll not tell anyone where you’ve gone, you know I won’t, I just want to know you’ll be alright.“

Arya rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small upturn at the corner of her mouth. “Nymeria will be with me. I’ll be fine in the Godswood.” She told him.

Jon smiled for true and stood up, ruffling her hair. “You know you can speak to me about anything, right?” He searched her eyes. “There’s nothing you could say or do to make me love you any less.”

She blushed and gulped thinking about how he might actually think less of her if she told him she’d been hit in the chin by Micah’s cock and now all she could think about was finding a way to see one again. Regardless she nodded and was relieved when he let her pass unmolested.

She did have every intention of keeping to her word and remaining in the Godswood, and that was where she headed with Nymeria nipping at her arms trying to get her to drop the venison, but it wasn’t where she stayed for very long.

The more she contemplated the angrier she became. The angrier she became the more questions she had. The curiosity was eating her alive even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to be curious about any of it!

From a young age she’d been ‘protected’ from the realities of the difference between the sexes. As a Lady from one of the Great Houses she was expected to enter marriage ignorant and unenlightened concerning what transpired between men and women as proof that she was pure, a maid worthy of a great husband.

The only thing she was told any great length about was pregnancy and the beauty of it—the continuation of Noble bloodlines. Never mind that she and the rest of the castle had heard and would not soon forget the delivery of Rickon into the world.

Her mother had screamed bloody murder for near a whole day and night as the Maester’s and midwives shuffled to and from the room looking on worriedly, rushing about with bloodied linens and water, wide eyed and anxious as if they were faced with the deliverance of a creature from the deepest of the Seven Hells. They never saw her peeking through the door as they discussed how her mother had almost lost her life, and when she saw the mewling pink form of her little brother she felt confused and dismayed.

She’d always had aspirations of becoming a knight and fighting in great battles but had continually been told that a women’s war was waged in the birthing bed. Seeing her infant little brother, she didn’t understand how a battle against such a defenseless creature could be that hard or even lost. She supposed keeping them alive _was_ the battle but that was the very antithesis of war, where was the glory and honor and thrill? 

It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t understand why she had to get fat because some Lord planted his seed in her only to then sit by idly while he got to go out and ride and hunt and have all kinds of adventures! She understood none of it and she wanted to but her continual questions were either laughed off or earned her a scolding, her naivety looked at as inappropriate or endearing.

It wasn’t endearing, it was infuriating, both to her and her mother after awhile.

Still there were certain things she couldn’t take chances with. She and Lady Stark could agree on just this one thing. She needed to avoid becoming with child at all costs if she didn’t want to befall the fate of a Lady.

Naturally, given the confusing talk of gardens and her flower, as well as some pernicious warnings from Theon about being careful what she ate less she found herself disgraced, she developed an aversion to anything remotely having to do with seeds—strawberries, raspberries, even the farmers and farmhands who planted crops. She couldn’t risk seeds entering her person even though she couldn’t quite understand how a seed knew to become a plant or a babe based on whether it was in the ground or a man or woman.

She knew better than to ask questions about it though. Especially to commonfolk considering the whipping she’d been privy to after she’d tried to cajole answers out of the horse master and get him to show her how he breed the horses.

The man had been appalled and scandalized when as an eight year old she’d demanded he plant his seed in the broodmare so she could watch. She’d thought his worrisome expression was concern for her female condition and so informed him she’d study from the hayloft so he needn’t worry about the seed reaching and ruining her. He’d kicked her out and tattled on her, apparently disturbed by her questions. Her mother had been too.

After that she wasn’t even allowed in the kennels let alone stables unless supervised. Still, for all their efforts to keep her sheltered from the animal nature of things, they hadn’t been able to protect her legs from being humped by her brother’s wolves when they were still young pups. It was really only this fact that convinced her father to overrule her mother. He had words about how they couldn’t be expected to protect her from everything, and that she needed free access to Nymeria if she were to keep up with her training; or did she want another Direwolf that behaved like Shaggydog roaming Winterfell?

All in all she knew very little and understood even less. The incident with Micah only redoubled her confusion. His prick looked nothing like what she’d expected. It wasn’t slimy or bright red, or anything like what Rickon’s had looked like as an infant, and she’d seen no seeds anywhere, were they hidden in all that hair?

Why did that twitchy looking shaft give him the right to rule over her as a woman? If anything it looked like a hindrance to riding and even running, what with that flappy sack of skin hanging underneath! At least from what she’d seen on the wolves and farm beasts it hadn’t looked all that much of an obstruction, just awkward and perhaps ugly, not like they could get caught between your legs like Micah’s had. Gods it was bewildering!

How come she wasn’t even allowed to talk about cocks let alone see one belonging to a grown male of her own species before they tossed her in bed with someone possessing of one that she wasn’t even truly acquainted with? Did they think she would marvel at its power and beauty once revealed? Men did seem quite proud of themselves for possessing cocks but from what she’d seen it was quite strange looking. Hence all the questions now streaming through her head that she would never see answered until it was too late! It was maddening.

What’s worse was she couldn’t count the times she had come upon Theon and Robb and they had clammed up and refused to tell her what they were speaking about. She’d tried asking them questions but all they ever told her was it wasn’t proper and she shouldn’t be asking.

That didn’t stop them from telling Bran though, including the experiences they’d had with women. It grated on her even worse to know her younger brother probably knew more about it all than she did and actually had a right to while she apparently didn’t. Bran on the other hand thought it was grand, even joking that mayhaps she should just take a trip to the brothel and find out for herself.

She’d pushed him in the horse trough next time he passed for his trouble, but now it seemed like she should be thanking him for the idea. What if she _did_ take a trip to the brothel? Not inside it of course because they obviously wouldn’t let her through, but she could peek through a window maybe?

Her mind was set and so was her plan, she just had to think of the best route to Wintertown without getting spotted. Once again she had Bran to thank.

Climbing the mossy wall of the Guest House beneath the hot spring pools of the Godswood was difficult, and she wasn’t nearly as fast as Bran would’ve been, but she’d done it hundreds of times before, only this time with a purpose. She was a little bit hasty in her subsequent climb up the side of the Armory knowing she could be seen from the covered bridge, but only slipped once and from there climbing around the guard tower and over the Battlements Gate was easy, though the descent down the eighty feet of granite that made the outer wall always left her a little breathless.

It was just before dusk by the time she’d ghosted her way through Wintertown and to the alleyway behind the Brothel. The shutters on the first floor were shut tightly with little cracks where light shown through, though it was hard to make anything out due to the fabric of curtains which had been pulled shut—probably to discourage the very thing she had set out to do.

Still, she could hear the breathy moans of a woman punctuated by a strange sound akin to rhythmic clapping and the guttural grunts of a man. It did nothing but pique her interest and redouble her determination.

Not ready to give up she backed into the wood of the building behind her trying to make out if climbing to the second story would give her better views. She wasn’t really able to tell from hopping up and down and so decided to risk it rather than admit defeat.

It wasn’t as easy to find purchase on the wood siding of the brothel as it was the rock of the Keep and its wall. She didn’t much like it but to reach the roof she had to climb up the closed shutters themselves, attempting to be as quiet as she could and hope that she wasn’t found.

Hauling herself lightly onto the few inches of shingles that separated the first and second floors, she balanced herself carefully, hands stretched overhead and grasping the eaves under the overhang above to steady herself as she made her way towards where the shutters of a nearby window had luckily been thrown open for air.

Grimacing with the realization that her positioning looking down into the room wouldn’t allow her to see into it very far, she tested her footing and only then slowly let go of the eaves. Crouching now on the narrow bit of mossy shingles, she grasped onto the edge of the opened shutter and risked leaning around it to sneak a look into the room.

The furniture was sparse, a bed taking up most of the small space with a big bosomed woman laying there on her back. Arya couldn’t help but look down at her own budding breasts worriedly, hoping the small globes she possessed now wouldn’t become as cumbersome as what she was seeing. Were her nipples going to grow that size?

The woman was smiling towards the opposite side of the room; a man’s shadow flickering in the candlelight draping her opened legs in his silhouette.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” The woman purred. “Is it my mouth or my cunt that’s been haunting your dreams?” She asked coming to a kneeling position as Arya blinked in confusion. “You seemed eager to drown both in your seed last time.” The whore giggled running one hand up between her sizeable breasts and another down between her thighs where Arya could see moistened and reddened edges jutting down between folds. She frowned thinking her own parts only just resembled what she was seeing of the woman and resolved to get a better look at herself with the aid of a mirror at a later time.

Still, what was this about mouths _and_ cunts? She’d long been led to believe a woman may become with child via mouth, but given the source was Theon she’d had her doubts. Was this confirmation? Would the seed actually find its way to a woman’s womb as she’d been led to believe? She was suddenly doubly grateful that she’d avoided anything with seeds and made a note to mention it to Sansa.

What was more bewildering though was how a woman would even go about using their mouth on a man? Surely the whore couldn’t fit shaft and bollocks in her mouth at one time? She figured a cunt could considering the birthing of babes but the thing between her legs was quite different than her mouth, at least by her own inexperienced estimation. Maybe there was more about her own body she didn’t understand? Unconsciously she felt herself opening her mouth to see how far it would go…

“You’re cunt’s as good as any whore’s but that mouth,” The man grunted as Arya heard the sound of a sword belt hitting the floor and was shaken from her thoughts, her jaw clamped shut. “Two silvers for the best mouth in the North.” He flicked coins towards the woman who caught them easily and set them on her bedside table before turning back around.

The girl lifted an eyebrow, the corner of her lips turning upward. “I see you’ve done the hard part for me.” She quipped with a smirk while crawling towards him, too unbearably slow for Arya’s impatient mind. “It seems to remember me and I it.” She laughed. “Such a thick lovely gentleman.” She grinned salaciously, crawling out of Arya’s view, only the back half of her naked body now in her field of vision and leaving her with still more questions.

There was a hard part to all of this? Gods, understanding it was difficult enough! Was that what the painful look on Micah’s face had been earlier? Before he’d hit her in the chin? And what was this about the man’s cock remembering the whore? She’d heard Robb tell Theon to quit thinking with his cock when he didn’t realize she was listening. Could it actually be that it had a mind of its own? The whore did refer to it as a gentleman…Was that why men thought they were so much better than everything and had all the answers? Two minds? She actually felt like she was getting somewhere!

If only she could see better…

Cursing in her head Arya leaned more of her weight onto the shutter trying to glimpse the man who was now at the mercy of the whore. It worked but only slightly, she could see only a bit of him and not the parts she wished, the whore still managing to cover all of what she was truly risking her pelt to glimpse.

Frustrated she pushed herself out further, the shutter swinging closed a bit more on its hinge before it gave a savage creak. With a deafening crack, it tore free of its screws, gravity sending it flying into the mud of the alley below and taking Arya with it to land with a shocked thud on her back.

Gasping for the breath that had been pushed from her lungs, she only just managed to scramble into a sitting position. Rasping helplessly as she tried to her find her wits, and only managed it in time to see Jon come sprinting towards her worriedly from down the alley.

Disregarding his fussing completely, she scurried hurriedly through the mud towards the footings of the brothel and splayed herself up against its side in attempt to conceal herself, and just in the knick of time too. As Jon was looking down at her dumbfounded, the whore and her patron were both hanging out of the room she’d been spying from, looking angrily for the culprit and finding Jon standing their dumbly.

“The pretty bastard?” The whore questioned skeptically before smiling down mirthfully. “We girls thought you had no need for the likes of us!” She explained away her surprise. “If you only wish to watch we can arrange that. No need to go skulkin’ about!” She laughed, ever the saleswoman.

For his part Jon looked flabbergasted at the situation he found himself in, though he smartly refrained from looking back at Arya. “I-I’ll pay to have the shutter fixed.” He finally offered still a bit taken aback.

“Aye ya will.” She told him.

“And you’ll be payin’ for the interruption too.” The man next to her grumbled angrily. 

Jon gulped but nodded. “My apologies.” He offered weakly. Rummaging in the coin purse hooked to his belt he pulled out a gold dragon and tossed it up. “Will that do?” He truly hoped it would, the rest he had was silver and copper.

The woman smiled down at him as the man gruffly pushed himself back inside the room. “It will Lord Snow.” She winked. “Ask for Miriam when next you come, I’ll even let you climb through me window if it’s the thrill you want!” She chuckled pushing herself back through the window and leaving Jon to stare wide eyed for a moment.

Of course it was only a brief moment. The next his jaw was clenched and he was glaring down at his little sister sternly.

Before he could speak she was on her feet apologizing. “I’m sorry Jon. I should’ve told you to hide.”

His nostrils flared and he looked away furiously, turning and making his way back towards the castle. “No, what you should’ve have done was never come here at all!” He told her unable to keep the bite out of his tone.

She scrambled after him, hurrying to keep up with his pace. “I’m sorry I just...” She trailed off.

At that he rounded on her looking serious. “What exactly _were_ you doing?” He asked taking a step towards her. When she clamped her mouth shut and looked to the ground he rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if you have to tell me Arya, I _saw_. The question is why?”

She looked up at him, her expression twisting painfully, still unable to just confess. 

“You were supposed to be in the Godswood, remember?” He seethed, jaw still clenched. “…Where you promised me you were going so I wouldn’t worry?”

“I did go there!” She piped up crossly. She didn’t lie about that, she didn’t like lying to Jon at all and hadn’t, so she wouldn’t be accused of it now.

He just shook his head in exasperation. “And just because you _went_ there means you were honest?” He questioned, happy to see some small amount of shame in her expression. “You Left! You might as well have lied in the first place!” He reiterated beginning back towards the castle.

“I never lied!” she insisted feeling her own anger rising and stomping along after him. “I didn’t _intend_ to leave the Godswood, but I just—there was something I needed to see!” She tried.

Jon looked at her incredulously, “There was something you needed to see? At a _brothel_?” He fumed quietly making sure no one heard as they passed through the gates. Once in the courtyard he pulled her over to the entrance of the Godswood determined to make her understand. “Do you know what would’ve happened had it been _you_ they spotted and not me?”

Arya pulled out of his grip and marched further into the trees but he caught her up and turned her back round to face him.

“I’m serious Arya! All of Winterfell and Wintertown would’ve know by sundown and likely the whole of the Seven Kingdoms would know within a fortnight! You’re older now, you’d be ruined Arya!” His voice was raised.

Ashamed, she couldn’t meet his eye. She really should’ve realized the risk. She was just so caught up in figuring everything out for herself considering everyone insisted she shouldn’t know. Still, the stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to admit it. “Good!” She told him half-heartedly. “If I’m ruined I can’t be some other Lord’s Lady!”

She wasn’t watching him, but immediately Jon’s shoulders slumped and his expression softened. Taking a few cautious steps forward he lifted her chin to catch her gaze. “Is that what this is about?” He questioned gently. “You know ruining yourself won’t change your fate. You’re a Lady and Stark, it would only mean a worse match and to an older Lord,” He licked his lips, eyes searching hers for understanding, “I couldn’t bear to see that happen to my favorite sister.”

She couldn’t take it and wrested out of his grip. “That wasn’t what it was about.” She spun away from him making her way into the shallows of the nearby pool to scrub the mud from her clothes and keeping her back to him—her mother was _not_ going to be happy.

He circled round to make sure he was facing her but stayed out of the water. “Then what was it about?” He questioned determinedly, outwardly as bewildered as she had been about the answers she was seeking.

She huffed, clearly unwilling to give voice to her true thoughts, worried what might come of it. He took note, frustration rising.

“ _Arya_ ” He called, voice clipped and unyielding, demanding her to meet his eyes. She did. “What were you doing at that brothel?” He brokered no nonsense, sounding too much like their father to not have effect.

Arya splashed fists into the water to either side and came to stand. “I just—“ She tried to find words. “I just wanted to understand is all! No one will ever tell me anything and I’m not supposed to ask either!” She told him in frustration, words just spilling out now. “I’m supposed to learn my letters and numbers, and the histories of all the houses in Westeros, and sewing, and how to run a household, and it’s all to prepare myself for a wedding I never asked or wished for! I’m supposed to look forward to it as if it will be the best day of my life, yet I can’t ask questions about what happens between a man and a woman _on_ that night? Its infuriating Jon!”

Jon gulped looking slightly taken aback and regretful of his insistence when faced with the truth. She just kept on.

“I _need_ to know.” She told him anguished. “Even Bran knows more than I do! Robb and Theon made certain of that! All I know is of the birthing bed but not how I’m supposed to find myself there until I am given away to be bred.” Even though he was silent and didn’t look as if he would be able to find words she was determined to get her point across, to finish purging now that she’d started. “What does it even _mean_ that a man plants his seed in a woman? Where does the seed even come from!” She was close to raving now. “I thought after seeing a cock I might understand why possessing one gave men the right to rule over women, but it only raised more questions! There were no seeds anywhere Jon! Anywhere! I needed to know more.” She paused, surprised at the rate of her breathing and attempting to slow it down. “That’s why I went to the brothel.” She admitted finally.

Jon looked thoroughly horrified, but slowly he was able to process her words. “Help me understand...” He spoke up, his expression turning dark, eyes blinking. “You went to the brothel _after_ seeing…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word cock, it was bad enough hearing it come from her lips“...a man.” He finished with a sputter.

Arya’s eyes widened, only now realizing that she had inadvertently admitted as much. “It’s not what you think!” She stammered immediately.

“Then you best try explaining it to me.” He told her through clenched jaw, fists clamped at his side and trying to keep the thought of Arya being dishonored by some faceless man out of his mind.

“It was just Micah.” She offered poorly.

“Micah?” Jon sputtered incredulous. “The Butcher’s—is that why you were acting strange today?” His eyes glanced hers then were searching the ground, looking as if he were speaking more to himself as he continued. “His clothes were all rumpled when he came sprinting back to town…” Jon was already starting towards the exit.

She quickly got in front of him, pushing all her weight against his, hands on his chest to try and stop him. “Wait Jon you don’t understand, it was an accident!”

“How is pulling his cock out in front of my sister an accident?” He asked mistrustfully, fury allowing him to utter the word that he once wouldn’t have.

“It wasn’t like that!” She tried desperately, wondering how everything had gotten so out of hand. “We were playing stick fight and he fell onto a dragon ant nest.” She explained. When she felt Jon still she went on. “He was yelling and screaming that they were in his trousers and asking me what to do so I told him to take them off. I helped him with his shirt while he worked on his smallclothes. I was using the shirt to try and bat away the ants but it wasn’t working very well so I knelt and brushed them away with my hands before I even realized he was naked.”

She gulped after meeting Jon’s eyes and seeing him waiting for more, trying to understand. She could only look at her hands on his chest as she went on. “He’d frozen in place when I dropped to my knees and it was only after I looked up to ask if he was all right that his—“ She gulped. “His cock hit me in the chin and I fell back.” She felt Jon tense and finally looked up. Seeing his eye twitch see plowed on hurriedly cheeks reddening at the admission. “I couldn’t stop staring at it, Jon.” She confessed. She couldn’t take her eyes off his now, waiting for the disapproval or any proof that he did think less of her because of what she was saying. “It was so, _so_ different than a wolves or a babes, or what I even expected at all and the minute I started asking questions Micah started gathering his clothes.” She felt shame apparent in her eyes. “I tried to get him to let me have another look but he ran off thinking himself in trouble. I came back angry because I thought by seeing one I might understand but I don’t Jon. It looked nothing like Ghosts or Grey Winds or even your Palfrey’s. I thought if I got a better look at one I might get more of an idea why I have to marry a Lord and will never be allowed to swing a sword, why being a man is better than a woman…” She swallowed hard. “Its why I went to the brothel.” She finished meekly eyes imploring him to understand though expecting him not to.

After a moment of silence Jon brought a shaky hand up to run through his curls and exhaled deeply. “Seven Hells Arya.” He told her turning back and taking a heavy seat at the foot of the heart tree. It was all too much.

Arya followed but remained standing, eyes watery and preparing to run should her favorite brother utter words of condemnation—he rarely swore.

He was deep in thought, mind considering everything she’d just told him. “We—we need to tell Father.” He finally told her, unable to really think of what else would be proper.

She rushed to kneel at his side tears threatening to fall now. “Please Jon no!” She pleaded.

He took in her scared expression and his heart twisted. “I know you Arya. You’re curiosity is worse than a cats and you’ll not stop until you have your answers. If we tell Father, mayhaps he'll understand and they can explain everything to you, in their own way, an appropriate way.” 

She shook her head vehemently. “They won’t explain anything Jon! Mother will lock me in my chambers and make a match of me the first one she can! You know its true!” The tears were actually falling now. “I’d never see you again Jon.”

Jon grimaced thinking her words did hold truth. “Then what would you have me do?” He asked looking desperate for a solution. “You couldn’t promise to just leave it be. You’re _you_.” When she looked away from him he knew himself to be right and huffed in exasperation. “If we explain well enough Father might see reason. He’s always indulged you. To keep you out of trouble he might on this too!”

“He won’t!” She insisted sounding irate now. “He’ll hate me, him and Mother both! They always say I can’t leave well enough alone.” When Jon gave her a look that told her he was in agreement. She pushed him angrily earning a small begrudging smile from him and causing her to smile slightly as well, the tension never lasting long between them. “You’re the only one who ever understands Jon.” She told him, an idea forming in her mind. “You could answer my questions and no one would have to know.” She tried hopefully.

Jon’s mouth fell open. “What me?” He shook his head. “No, absolutely no.”

“Please!” She begged. “I hate feeling stupid and after seeing one…Jon I need know or I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He gulped. He hated thinking about Arya continually picturing what she’d seen of Micah, but still felt he had no place in this. “Arya you can’t ask this of me. I’m your brother! I’m supposed to protect you from this kind of talk!”

“I don’t _need_ your protection.” Arya rolled her eyes. “I _need_ your answers! I’ll have it from someone, you know I will.” She tried. “Better you than anyone else Jon.” She bit her lip hopefully. “There’s nothing I could say or do to make you love me any less, right?” She used his words against him bumping his shoulder.

He scowled at her unhappily. “That’s not fair Arya.” He objected coming to stand.

She followed suit. “Neither is any of this!”

Jon gulped in air trying to find excuses. “It’s not as if I’m well versed in the subject!” He admitted in exasperation, cheeks ruddy with embarrassment.

She snorted. “You know more than I do! You’ll share everything else with me, why not this?” She implored seriously, her stormy eyes searching his own.

He shook his head brows furrowed, turning away from her and ducking his head.

She followed, stepping in front of him and grasping his hands in her own. Looking up at him, eyes longing and rimmed with tears. “Please Jon.” She appealed breathless and pleading.

He’d always been powerless against her wishes but never felt it more than he did now, what with her watery grey gaze boring desperately into his own. Gulping resignedly he relented with a sober nod. When her eyes widened in realization he quickly added, “This must stay between us,” managing to still feel uneasy as well as slightly light headed.

Her face lit up full of hope and he felt his heart wrench painfully at the sight. He smiled begrudgingly, unable to hold it back as she pulled him eagerly back down against the Heart tree next to her and into a quick hug.

Still when she pulled back and comprehension of what he’d volunteered for sunk in he felt his insides clench uncomfortably. He shouldn’t be doing this, but this was Arya. He knew he could trust her.

“Of course it’ll stay between us! Thank you Jon!” She told him excitedly though noticing the inner war displayed on his face. Thinking she had better get on with it before he changed his mind, she ploughed on. Blushing she fiddled with the pine needles trying to be nonchalant. “What exactly does it mean when everyone says a man’s cock has a mind of its own?” She enquired, truly curious and peering at him brows furrowed but expectant.

The awkwardness just wasn’t going away, not with what he had dumbly volunteered for, so he tried to manage it as well as he could by clearing his throat and distracting himself from the fact that his face was now burning.

“Well, it means that a man’s…” He cleared his throat again thinking he was going to have to get used to saying it. “… _cock_ …” He couldn’t help that he blinked overly much. “doesn’t always listen to his own desire.”

She nodded to herself looking as if she was turning the idea over in her head. “So that’s why you shouldn’t think with it…you disagree on most things. So does that mean you and your cock _are_ of a separate mind then?”

He snorted at her interpretation, only now understanding the meaning of her question. “Not _literally_ no _._ ” He chuckled lightly shaking his head in slight disbelief. “It might not respond how we intend at times but men don’t all possess two _separate_ minds if that’s what you’re asking!”

When she looked bashfully away he had to try vigorously hard not to outright laugh, what did manage to escape he tried to cover with a sorry play at a cough which she took note of. When she pushed him irately he couldn’t help its escape unable to hold it back any longer and grinning now at the preposterousness of her question.

“Shut up.” She scowled at him before trying to explain away her ignorance. “I just thought it might be why men were always thinking they were smarter than women and get to Lord over everything.”

“I see.” Jon’s eyebrow lifted, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a smirk but seeing where she might have supposed that. “Two minds….I’ve never thought of it that way.” And truly he hadn’t.

“But what did you mean about it not doing what you want then?” She continued with her questions. “You can’t control it, and you’re not supposed to let it think for you, but it doesn’t have a mind of its own?” Arya questioned quickly trying to steer conversation away from her humiliation.

He grimaced, again regretful he’d agreed to answer her questions. “Its sort of like…” He scratched his chin thinking of a good way to explain it. “Well you know when you really want that second lemon cake but understand Lady Catelyn will chastise you for it.” When she nodded he continued. “You eat it anyway because the taste is just too good to pass up. Well in that situation you’d be listening to your stomach and not your mind, you’re letting your stomach do the thinking.” He felt pleased with his explanation.

Arya looked pensive. “But if you’re listening to your stomach because it wants food, what does your cock want when it wants you to listen?”

He immediately deflated, exhaling as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Relief?” He tried “…from being hard?” He really didn’t want to explain the allure of tits and arse and cunts. 

“What’s hard about it?” She asked bewildered. “The whore said something similar. Is it painful or something?”

Jon blinked once again realizing the depth of her ignorance and misconception. “No it’s not painful, well not usually.” He tried to explain though not feeling he was doing well. “When I say hard, what I mean is _erect_ …” He couldn’t help the fact that he squirmed as he trailed off. “Normally we are just well, soft?” Gods he hoped she didn’t ask about the difference.

She gave him a quizzical look that he could only sigh knowing what was coming.

“Soft?” She repeated toying with the idea fruitlessly. “But then why would you get hard too?”

Jon’s brow furrowed, arms coming to cross his chest as he nodded at nothing. He was going to have to be more direct. “Well, it becomes _erect_ when we find something attractive about a woman, so that it can be rigid enough to…” he cleared his throat. “…well, be put inside her so we can relief ourselves.” He coughed out quickly.

She nodded at him, wrinkles in her forehead indicating she was thinking hard. “So it gets hard so a man can plant his seed and water a woman’s flower...”

“Yes!” He agreed. “Yes, exactly!” He told her relieved there was something she didn’t need an explanation for.

Arya smiled feeling like she wasn’t entirely oblivious after all and eagerly began spouting off questions. “So then do the bollocks get hard as well so they’re easier to get in too? And where do the seeds come from? Are the seeds hidden in all that hair?” She paused before adding with a questioning look genuinely inquiring. “Do they just know to grow into a babe when they’re planted in a woman rather than the ground?”

Jon tried, he truly did but he just couldn’t help the great gulping guffaws of laughter that escaped him after her deluge of absurd questions. Arya on the other hand didn’t think the mirth at her expense was very funny at all and stood up and pushed him again. When that did nothing to stop his laughter she pouted.

“I’m not stupid!”

Jon did feel bad. He was all too familiar with what it felt like to be belittled even if that wasn’t his intention. “I’m sorry Arya, I know you’re not.” He sighed seriously. “I’m just a poor teacher.”

She looked at him doubtful. “You’re good at everything.”

“Not at talking.” His smile was crooked. “and _especially_ about this.”

She bit her lip looking hopeful. “You could always just show me?”

The smile slipped right off his face and he got to his feet. “ _No_ , Arya.”

Seeing her chance slip from her fingers she anxiously stepped in front him and the Godswood exit looking agitated. “ _Please_ Jon.”

He was pushing around her walking away again, this time determined.

She ran after him, grasping his arm.

“Jon please!” She beseeched him desperately. “I don’t want to learn from anyone else!”

He shook her off easily, whirling around. “You should want to learn from _anyone_ else!” He seethed in spite of the warm flip-flop of this stomach. “It’s not proper! I’m your _brother_!” Did she realize why that was wrong?

“And there is no one I love or trust more!” She insisted heatedly

When he said nothing, just stared at her with a hard look, she continued.

“You love me the same.” She held. “Would you have me learn from some boring Lord? Some stranger who will give me no opportunity for questions or understanding—only force?”

He grit his teeth trying to stop himself from picturing just that. When she saw his fist clench she tried again before he could speak.

“Please John, you taught me the sword when it wasn’t proper, and the bow.” She reminded him softly.

He rolled his eyes. “Because you would’ve hurt yourself had I not! And this is not the same.”

She glowered at him. “That is not the only reason and you know it! You did it to make me happy and give me some measure of joy—” His pleading look was begging her not to continue but she did. “—to give me relief from my mother and allow me to live some measure of a life apart from the misery of what they’ve forced on me.” It was a reprieve they’d experienced mutually, him from his bastard’s surname.

“Help me now...” She begged.

He hesitated but still shook his head. “You’re asking me to share something of myself that a man has only a right a right to share with his wife! It isn’t right…”

Her nostrils flared. “How come anything I’ve ever wanted _isn’t_ right Jon!” She yelled at the world, whirling away in pure frustration with hands in the air. “Riding, fighting, _not_ bloody wanting to be a lady. Why can’t I want and learn and share with—not to mention _marry—_ who I want!” She turned around facing him. “We’ve shared adventures…we’ve shared hopes and dreams and secrets…all in spite of whether or not anyone thought it was right!”

Had he not? He licked his lips. “It’s not the same. You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking to see _you_.” She entreated

Gods, why was he even considering it? Why did that sound so _good_? “I’ve always shared everything of myself with you Arya. I can’t share this, I won’t ruin you.” He told her with some measure of remorse.

“You’ve ruined me for everything else Jon.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “Any hope I ever had at being happy with the life of a Lady has long since disappeared because of the happiness I am afforded when I’m with you. You’ve been my only freedom in this world Jon.”

He felt as if he’d taken a blow to the stomach. “You’ve been mine too.” Jon confessed easily. “But Arya we— ”

She cut him off shaking her head. “If the Gods were good Father would see fit to make the match of us that we already are! The Targaryens did it and politics be damned!” She voiced with a stroppy stamp of her foot. “We’d be free to find the adventures we always dreamed of together…”

He gulped, sucking in a breath. She’d said such things before when they were younger and still playing Come Into My Castle, but it had all been innocent play then; a little sister never wanting to part from her favorite brother. That she was still thinking about it, and especially now after stripping the innocence away from the situation, gave him pause.

He’d never allowed himself to picture a life with Arya. Even though he may have wanted to, reality stopped him. Now though it slipped easily to lodge itself in his mind, and knowing it was something she had considered and wanted made hope rise unbidden. He was weak when it came to her.

“There is no one I desire to share my time with more!” She went on while his resolve continued to crumble. “If I am to ruin myself over this bloody curiosity then I hope it could be satisfied by the brother who would never consider me ruined no matter the circumstance!”

Words and thoughts were failing him while his desires drowned out sanity

“Please Jon, let me see you...” 

“Arya…” He agonized, still deeply tormented.

Taking in the embattled look on his face, she narrowed her eyes in exasperated anger. “I will find my answers either way.” She threatened quietly. “You know I will.” 

He didn’t give himself the chance to muster up further objection. He knew she told the truth and while he couldn’t be honest with himself about his real intention, he could agree that a secret shared between them was the better alternative to hers.

“Come here.” He grabbed her by the hand while glancing back behind him to make sure they were alone. Confirming they were, he guided them to the far side of the heart tree where they would be hidden from the view of anyone entering the Godswood. There he solemnly turned to face her.

“You’re shaking.” She told him taking both hands in hers while peering up at him feeling her own stomach roiling in anticipation.

He was indeed. He knew he should be stopping this but somewhere along the line her desires had become his.

Arya didn’t give him the chance to dispute. Fumbling hands found their way to his laces while still peering up at him, waiting for objection. When his nose only flared and his lids closed resolutely, her eyes turned downward waiting to feast on the sight that was her brother, heart pounding in anticipation.

The tips of her fingers were gentle as she peeled soft leather away from his body, skimming the sensitive skin of his waistline and threading through the soft hair leading her further down still.

He held his breath as her slim fingers caressed his soft length inquisitively. His blood rushed in at her touch while he bit his lip at sound of her soft surprised gasp.

“It’s growing!” She told him wrapping her hand around to feel the weight of him in her grip. “I can feel the beat of your heart.” She whispered in awe as her hand gripped him overly hard.

“Gentle!” He cautioned, falling forward and catching himself on her shoulders.

“Sorry!” She let up. “Is this better?” Her hands reached under to tenderly clasp his bollocks and jostle them in her palm. 

Groaning he leaned unconsciously forward until his forehead was resting on hers. He nodded in the affirmative licking his lips.

Arya smiled, her fingers continuing their slow, nimble exploration, fingers discovering and memorizing the feeling of his foreign satin girth while her eyes focused on reading his face.

His lips were slightly parted, eyes closed and brow furrowed as if he were in some sort of discomfort. His tongue darted out periodically to wet his lips before his teeth clamped down to bite down alluringly. When he did Arya could feel his hips thrust ever so slightly towards her as well, his cock pressing into her belly and causing an unfamiliar ache lower still.

“I feel…I think its hard now.” She observed, understanding dawning. “Will your bollocks do the same?”

He shook his head with a fleeting chuckle, unable to concentrate on much else but the feel of her fumbling hand. “No they won’t.”

“Does that mean—“

“Please Arya,” He interjected, eyes flashing to hers in their fervor. “No more question while your hands are on me. I’ll answer any you have remaining once you’re done with your look.”

Arya nodded, breathless at the look of him and the unfamiliar ache she could detect there, her stomach performing a queer flip-flop.

Typical to her nature, she found herself acting out before really considering sense. Her gaze darted between his eyes and his lips and before she could stop herself she was leaning up tentatively to brush her lips to his in a chaste meeting before pulling away to gauge his reaction, not at all confident he wouldn’t be cross with her.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed quickly, hands removed from him completely. She wasn’t really. She’d always wondered what kissing was about and in that moment she had wanted to kiss Jon. Still though, she hadn’t asked.

Jon’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise but his head was still sorely lacking the capacity to reason and it took a moment for him to fully digest that Arya had stolen a kiss from him.

“Did you—did you mind?” she asked cautiously.

Jon hadn’t dared to hope that this requested education would be anything but an exercise in torture for him. This turn was entirely beyond his hope while not at all far from his mind. Even as he’d been using every ounce of resolve to drive down the desire, his will failed him and in the fog of longing his mind didn’t revolt either. He shook his head numbly in response to her question, lips seeking hers again before he could properly halt himself.

She met him with the same innocent eagerness as before, this time allowing her lips to follow his and reaching back to curl fingers in his hair.

His hand came up to softly cup her face, thoughts lingering in appreciation of the singular way she could make him feel worthy _and_ _wanted_ in a world where his name dictated he wasn’t.

His mouth pressed more hungrily against hers after their initial meeting, his ears delighting in her startled little squeal as his hands skimmed her waist before grasping at her back to press her more completely against him.

Arya’s eyes fluttered open then closed, unpracticed mouth working to keep pace with Jon’s sudden insistence, a moan escaping her at the feel of his tongue suddenly in her mouth and followed by a hum of appreciation from him.

She felt liquid, pliant to the command of his hands. She abandoned her grip in his hair in favor of grasping at his neck and shoulders and back, her body unsure at how to bring him any closer but still determined. The feel of his hard shaft between them and rubbing against such reactive parts of her body was enormously maddening. Out of instinct she leaned in to brush her core against it—her warmth against his length. His hip thrust back in clumsy response before suddenly he was pulling away.

“Gods!” He stammered, stepping away to run agonized hands through his curls. “I’m sorry Arya. I’m meant to just let you have your look!” He was appalled by his own behavior.

Arya bit her lip feeling a bit light headed but wanting to continue. She’d never felt an excitement like the one that accompanied the heat rising up her body and so wanted Jon’s hands returned to her though she was troubled by the look of suffering he was wearing

“Is this painful for you?” She began meekly. She didn’t give him a chance to respond, quickly going on. “I don’t mean it to be…and if you want to have a look at me too, its really only fair…I don’t mind” She glanced up to gauge his reaction overcome by nerves and fidgeting now thinking he may not want to while finding she did.

Jon’s gaze darkened, an unthinking hand strayed to grasp himself, palming his neglected cock before squeezing reproachfully realizing what he was doing. “I couldn’t ask that of you.” He managed still.

She recognized the look, the internal war he was waging. “You haven’t asked, I’m offering. ” Her eyes drifted down, finding herself enraptured at the sight of Jon’s hands on himself.

“But you can’t offer me that Arya.” He gritted out sounding troubled, his face twisting in misery at the thought of working to deny himself.

Arya’d had enough of his inner battle.

“I just did offer you.” She reminded him. “It _is_ mine to offer…unless you wouldn’t take it...” She trailed off reaching up to the laces of her dress, her eyes boring into his with the question of whether he wanted her to stop.

Jon could only gulp, remaining stock-still.

He could see her shaking with tension as she fumbled hurriedly with the laces of her dress, dreading an objection from him that never came.

Dipping fabric over shoulders to let it fall and pool in a circle at her feet, her fingers were once again scrabbling at ties, this time of her shift before finding herself bared to him.

She was breathing as if it had taken some huge effort to rid herself of clothing, her nerves welcoming a rush of adrenaline that lit her skin on fire under his gaze. She felt herself swallow at the unfamiliar look of him, nipples and skin alike pebbling under the hungry gaze.

With pupils dilated, his eyes had turned almost black. His jaw was clenched, lips set in a resolved line, adam’s apple bobbing.

As the seconds drew on, she crossed an arm over her chest to grab at her shoulder, her hips turning to angle slightly side face feeling self-conscious enough to try and turn away a bit.

His hand covered himself completely, grasping his balls and his cock in one hand and groping harshly seeking relief, eyes closed. She was unbearably sweet in her beauty and still his same sour, stubborn little Arya—now resolutely naked for his eyes to feast on though he resisted.

Arya’s lips fell open and her tongue darted out quickly seeing all the muscles of his lithe sculpted body tense and hearing him groan. She knew she wasn’t supposed to ask questions but she couldn’t help it. “Does it feel good when you do that?”

“It’s relief.” He rumbled out chuckling through a husky exhale.

She licked her lips. “Then what feels good?”

His eyes burn into hers hating himself for his lack of will power. Licking his palm with the flat of his tongue, he wrapped a strong hand around his shaft and started stroking up and down, up and down, beginning a slow undaunted rhythm.

Her body shuddered, squirming at the sight of the head of his cock moving back and forth into his fist. “Let me?” She breathlessly managed to ask after a riveting moment.

Jon’s grip tightened and he stroked faster for a moment, nevertheless afflicted by the revulsion of his desire to let her explore him as she wished. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.” He tried instead.

She bit her lip, hesitating momentarily before a slim hand trailed across her belly and down into her soft curls. She skimmed over her lower lips nervously before drawing them aside and pressing in. “Its better if I lay down.” She confessed. Of all the things she was unfamiliar with, her body was not one of them.

“Lie down.”

It almost sounded a command coming from his lips, but she found her skin prickling at the order. 

Jon followed her to the grass lying on his side facing next to her, eager enough that his hands had forgotten about his cock until she was leaning back and spreading wide.

He let his eyes feast on the substantial wetness as her fingers rolled pink flesh between their tips, spreading open and then circling downward to sink themselves into her warm depths. She sighed knuckles deep before withdrawing and moving wet digits back up to circle the small bundle of nerves that had been throbbing since she’d first had her hands on his laces.

She squirmed, clenching her legs together as fingers first pressed into her clit. He made a sound of objection and she shuddered at the feel of his hands finally returning to her body to pry her legs back open and restore his view. Before he could remove them back to his cock, she trapped the one on her thigh with her own on top, fingers vigorously rubbing into her clit in excitement.

Slowly she pressed his hand into her skin, gliding them both up the sharp angle of her hip and over the flat of her belly. She took in a sharp breath as blunt calloused fingers grazed over a sensitive nipple coming to cup her small budding breast possessively.

“Gods you feel good.” He breathed.

“I want to feel you.” She whined.

She protested for a moment as his hand left her body yet caught herself holding her breath as he grabbed her wrist and moved her hand to finally return it to his cock.

She exhaled grasping the velvety flesh once more while Jon’s hand wrapped around hers to squeeze and continue his stroking, her hand now against his flesh.

She easily caught on to the pressure and rhythm that he required and soon he removed his hand from over top hers, panting at the feel of his sisters hands jerking him as he would himself.

Enthralled by the feeling and wanting her to experience this rapture with him, his hands nudged hers away from her sex.

His larger, rougher fingers felt sinful in their rhythms on and inside her. Her hips squirmed as his ministrations continued, appreciative of his talent and thinking she was right—he was good at everything. 

“Arya, I’m going to come.” He interrupted her thoughts

She wasn’t entirely sure what exactly that meant for him but knew enough to realize she wanted to. Her concentration moved away from the pleasures of her own body and back to where her hand continued to pump eagerly over his thick prick.

Her grip tightened ever so slightly in anticipation and Jon’s hips sputtered as he gasped.

She felt his whole body tense before finding her own eyes widen. She watched as four thick white ropes of warm liquid spurted urgently from his shaft to paint her stomach and breasts, a fifth stream dribbling down his length enticingly.

She felt a build up low in her own groin at the sight and clamped thighs around the hand he had still working into her. “That’s your seed.” She couldn’t help voicing the realization though she recognized how ridiculous it sounded at that moment.

“Yes Arya,” Jon chuckled amatively. “ _that_ ’s my seed.” He punctuated his words by thrusting fingers into her more harshly, causing her eyes to widen and her breath to catch. He removed them from her cunt and quickly pressed them against her nub, rubbing vigorously back and forth until suddenly she tensed.

Arya reveled in the wonderful release of tension, feeling it rolling out in waves from its source beneath Jon’s fingers, wracking her body with shivers and curling her toes.

She came down from it reluctantly, her body going limp and feeling overly sensitive. Still she didn’t yet want Jon’s hands removed from her skin and so laid her hand over his and trailed them up her belly, halting however abruptly at the feel of his pleasure remaining on her stomach as her mind filled with alarm.

Jon peered at her inquisitively, concerned at the sight of her sudden look of dread, a lick of fear coiling in his stomach thinking she suddenly felt different about all this. “Arya?” He called softly to her.

“Has your seed been planted?” She asked still staring at her stomach like it wasn’t her own body.

Worry aside he couldn’t help his chuckle. “No.” He exhaled. For a mans seed to take hold, a cock would’ve had to finish where my hands were inside.”

She visibly relax, exhaling deeply before reaching for her shift. She came to her feet as she rubbed what was left of his pleasure into her skin and then on the fabric. “So even if I were to swallow some it wouldn’t quicken a babe?”

He pressed his lips together holding back amusement as he came to his feet. “No.” He told her simply, still working on the laces of his breeches and wondering what in the seven hells they _had_ taught her about lying with a man.

She smiled widely, stepping into the circle of her skirts before slipping it over either shoulder.

Jon watched her feeling his chest tighten. “Arya, this was…” He mustered as much resolve as he could. “We mustn’t do this again.”

Her eyes glittered back at him. “But we will.” She insisted flippantly, before running off and beckoning for him to follow. “C’mon Jon!”

“Arya Stop!” Jon took off after her. “Where are you even going?” He asked, voice thick with exasperation.

“There’s a strawberry bush at the edge of the Godswood.” She told him. “I haven’t had any in ages but I still remember how delicious they are!”

**Author's Note:**

> A little OOC in the middle there given the character building of the story huh? I thought so too...might evolve with some editing given time. 
> 
> No future lemons on this one though. One-shot only!


End file.
